My grandfather didn’t believe.
My father doesn’t believe.
I believe, and in that belief
understand how much I don’t deserve it.
How fitting if there were no heaven.
The faithless don’t want it.
The faithful know they dont deserve it.
The gift of grace is entirely up to the giver.
We don’t deserve it and can’t earn it.
Our faith rests in a promise,
A confirmation of the spirit
in which we choose to trust.
How ironic to me that my mother would come to believe
and my father should perish.
Christians shouldn’t lie, even to themself.
Yet in the name of sentiment and sensitivity
When it comes to death
Christians make alliances with lies.
My mother had a wake with
dozens of flowering plants that I bought for my yard
but had not yet planted when she passed.
And was buried with her parents
God’s provision for his own.
My father however being so far from the bulk of his family
will likely have no remembrance
and no place to rest from lack of funds.
When he passes.